The Language of Flowers
by SeralynGrace
Summary: Miss. Evie Dursley, is just as normal as anyone else or so she thinks until her letter arrives.


The man at her door does not require an introduction. Long beard, twinkling blue eyes and an eccentric style of dress, Petunia recognizes him instantly as Albus Dumbledore. He was the image from Lily's stories, the ones she pretended not to listen too. His appearance at her door is foreboding. She can't help herself from looking around to see if any neighbors are lingering and gawking at this odd man before asking, "is Harry alright?". The boy had not come home from Christmas, not that she minded.

"Harry is fine. May I come in?"

Every bit of her knows she should slam the door. What if Vernon or the children came home? But the child within her seizes her and she opens the door wider allowing the eccentrically dressed man into her foyer. It isn't until they've reached the living room that she thinks to ask him the reason why he's here. But then she thinks, she already knows, _Evanthe_.

"It's Evie isn't it?"

At nearly eleven-years-old Evanthe Dursley is her mother in miniature, save for the copper that streaked her hair in the warmer months. When she was born, it was redder, acutely reminded Petunia of someone she tried so hard to forget. She and Vernon were quite pleased when it started to turn blonde as she aged. She was a surprise. A welcome one, but a surprise nonetheless. Born eleven months after Dudley was. For years all of the weird stuff that happened in their house was blamed on Harry. But they persisted even when he was at school. Vernon could ignore it, but he'd never lived with a young witch before. There was one haunting accident that occurred last month. Evie had come home from school crying that peers had taken to calling her giraffe. Vernon wanted to march immediately to the headmaster and demand they do something. Evie had shrieked to not do that, and she got that hardened glare where her pointy jaw would set, she would handle it herself. A week later the school sent home notice that they were investigating the weird skin condition that had plagued many students. The skin conditioned was described as skin around the neck turning yellow and brown spots appearing just like a giraffe. Vernon said she was being silly, but Evie never complained about being called a giraffe again.

The headmaster who'd been sipping at his tea lowered his cup. From the bellows of his sleeves he retrieved an all too familiar envelope. _Miss. Evanthe Dursley_, it reads. Her shaking hands grasp it and pry open the seal to read the letter she had always wished for.

"She's not going." Petunia begins as she tears the letter into pieces. She allows them to flutter to the ground in a show of defiance.

Dumbledore seems unperplexed by her actions. "Education at Hogwarts is not compulsory and as her mother it is your choice," His words inflate her. Yes. Evie is her daughter, her perfectly normal daughter. "but I beg of you Petunia to listen to these words carefully."

Evie had not meant to do it. She felt her heart hammering in her chest and her breathe hitching as she tried to apologize to Margot. Margot was backing away from her, absolutely terrified. Her dress was beginning to be stained by the bleed oozing from the gash on her forehead. They had all been playing a game of tag. Just as she was about to tag Margot, with a force she didn't think she had, her classmate had gone flying into the stones that lined the edge of the pond. The other girls had gathered around Margot to console her and some were giving Evie a death glare. It had been an accident. Or maybe Margot was clumsy? They were so far from the rocks after all.

"Mum?" she called as she entered the foyer of their home and shrugged her shoes off. More than anything she wanted to forget the events at the park. She was surprised to find that her mother was not alone.

Petunia feels herself tense. She grips at the arm rests and glares at Dumbledore. She wanted to tell him to leave but the weight of what he told her made her strangely mute. Evie enters the room, her grey eyes darting between her mother and Dumbledore. Her already fair skin pales considerably and her mouth falls open. She knows.

"Hello Evie." Dumbledore is on his feet. He towers over the newly accepted student and can see the fear and prejudiced etched into her face. "My name-

"I'm not a freak!" Evie's voice shrilly called out as she begins to flee. She had always been fast but Petunia marvels at how fast Evie is able to get up the stairs and out of sight. Dumbledore turns to her and she feels her heart plummeting. His words were ringing in her ears.

Vernon and Petunia fought for months about Evie. She listens to their muffled voices from underneath her blankets. Just before Harry comes home, they tell her she will be going to Hogwarts. Her queries about why or if they can cure her go unanswered. Daddy tells her to go show 'em how it's done but there's a stiffness in his voice. Her letter is shoved underneath her bed in an old shoebox. She takes it out every now and then to read it, hoping that the words would change but they don't. They don't speak about it. And they avoid Harry because they're afraid of what he can do. Will they be afraid of her too? Father still calls her Pumpkin, but he spends more time at work. Dudley seems to be afraid of making her upset. He no longer teases her. If it had been under normal circumstances Evie would've been grateful.

"Harry?" she approached him when she's sure her family is occupied. He is laying on the grass beside the flowers. "Immawitch." The words come out in a jumbled mess, but she'd confessed and had called herself a witch.

"What?" he asked not looking away from his cloud gazing.

She spares one glance upward at the house before plopping onto the grass beside him. The blades poke and tickle her bare legs. "I'm a witch." From within her pocket she withdraws her letter. Some of the ink had been smudged by her sweaty fingers but most of it remained legible. He snatches it away from her and reads it over several times.

"Your parents are letting you go?"

"Yes. And I don't know why."

She still doesn't know why when she's standing on the platforms between 9 and 10. Her cart is full of supplies she picked up by herself in Diagon Alley. Her owl, Jinx, who was tawny in color was secured in his cage hooting happily at the assembled masses. _Why'd you get a bloody owl? _Her father had asked. _To send mail. _He had not responded to that and she wanted to ask if they'd write to her, but she was afraid they'd say no.

"Well pumpkin," Vernon whispered, "go show 'em how it's done."

With a quick kiss to her forehead he is ambling back to the car. Petunia had stayed in the car with Dudley. She hadn't been sleeping in the days leading up to September 1st. Evie had never seen her so distraught. What if, what if she just missed the train? Her parents would surely have to keep her home then. She'd tell them she couldn't get on the platform or something. Or maybe she'd tell them that the freak school had made a mistake when admitting her. Her hopes and plans are dashed by the arrival of Harry and a gaggle of red heads who are rushing towards the platform. The mother offers her a sweet hurried smile.

"You must be Evie." She told her and then she breaks into rushed introductions of her offspring. The only girl is starting Hogwarts too. Evie watched as some of the older boys rush through the barrier disappearing before her very eyes. Upon instruction of the mother, Evie began her mad sprint towards the platform, certain that she was heading for a concussion or worse. No collision came, instead she was greeted by the sight of a crimson train, a thicket of smoke and a gaggle of students ambling around. Behind her emerged Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and their daughter, but they stopped there exchanging a sort of private goodbye.

The luggage cart was at the end of the train. Evie had never been particularly strong. She had inherited her mother's bony arms and pointed elbows.

"Need help?" a voice from behind her asked. It's a boy dressed in a yellow and black sweater. He has a mop of curly ash hair and a dimpled smile. Without her answering, he takes her luggage off the cart and tosses it with all of the others.

"I'm Evie." The introduction is a breathless whisper.

"Wyatt. Have a good trip!" he told her before rushing off to group of similarly dressed boys and disappearing into the smog that was enveloping the station. The loud whistling of the train made her rush to the first open door and hop on.

The only semi-open compartment she finds is occupied by a girl whose straight brownish black hair obscures most of her face. She's already dressed in her uniform and it makes Evie nervous that she should have also changed already. Their journey begins in near silence as the dark-haired girl is determinedly looking out the window. The silence is broken by the arrival of the Weasley girl.

"Can I sit here? I'm Ginny Weasley." The words come pouring out of her mouth before she can stop them. She nervously bounces on her feet while her bright brown eyes gaze at them hopefully.

"Weasley," the other girl said, "your family is one of the sacred twenty-eight families."

Evie isn't sure what that mean, and Ginny looks uneasy at the acknowledgement. She stands for a moment more in the doorway before sitting next to Evie near the door.

"I'm Honora Benedicks. Everyone calls me Nora." She plopped her book down onto the seat where Evie can see part of the title. _Genealogy_. Maybe that was where the question came from. "What Hogwarts houses do you think you'll be in?"

"All of my brothers and parents were in Gryffindor." Ginny admitted when Evie offers nothing. Evie had read a bit about the houses but didn't know if she would truly belong to any of them. "So, I'm hoping to be there too."

"I've had family in all of the houses," Nora whispered. "My mum was a Ravenclaw and my dad was a Hufflepuff, but his parents were a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw."

The brim of the old hat had fallen in front of her eyes. Evie could no longer see the grand hall and the students awaiting her placement. Instead she saw blackness. _Hmm. Where do we put you? _She had hoped that someone along the way would've announced they made a mistake and send her back home. _No mistake here, dear. _She jumped and the laughter erupting from the hall confirmed that in her fear she had nearly fallen off the stool. She can feel that old teacher's knobby hands brushing against her back. Evie shifted forward and gripped he edge of the stool. _Yes, I can read your mind. You, Evie, have a strong will. Courage, but not abundantly so. _His words sounded like thinly veiled insults. _Your mind on the other hand, is insatiable_. She did not hear his proclamation but the table second from the right had erupted into cheers. In her haste to get to that table, she had forgot to take off her hat.

"Miss. Dursley!" came the sharp voice of McGongall. Her eyes piercing and her words silencing the giggles. She held out her arm and Evie offered her a sheepish glance. She was not sure why but Evie thought McGongall disliked her very much. Once seated her eyes began to graze up and down the tables. Nora had been sorted into Gryffindor. She had looked a bit confused at the sorting but was now settling. Evie looked up each side of that table but had found no sign of her cousin. Was that weird? Did some people not come to the feast?

Evie watched as Elliot, Ethan became a Ravenclaw like her and Fren, Abigail become a Slytherin before her attention wondered elsewhere. At the end of her table she sees Wyatt, the boy from the train. He's talking to some other boys seated around him.

"You're starring." whispered Hannah Condon, one of the other only girls sorted into Ravenclaw thus far.

"I was not."

"He's the Ravenclaw Keeper."

Evie doesn't know what that means. Instead she pivots so her back is now to Hannah. Ginny is one of the last people to be sorted. She too goes to Gryffindor with loud applause, cheering and singing. Her blush is visible even from where Evie sits. She had mentioned how embarrassing her brothers could be. That was something Evie could relate too.

The Ravenclaw common room is spacious and the winds whistle within it. Her bed is beneath a window that overlooks the grounds of Hogwarts. When the excited chatter of her dorm mates Hannah Condon, Sera Smith, Luna Lovegood and Melinda Olivers dies down she's left alone to stare up at her canopy.

Ginny and Nora find her at breakfast the next morning. In their hands are the timetables given out by their head of house Professor McGongall. Evie has the distinct inkling that the old stern witch doesn't like her much. Evie tries to shrug it off but she's sure that glare might haunt her forever. Nora wraps her paper from her grasp before Evie could respond to their presence.

"We have potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts together." Nora announces bouncing on her heels. "Professor Snape first than Professor Lockhart."

Ginny paled then. "My brothers have told stories about him. He hates Gryffindors."

Evie later found out this hatred did not just extend to the Gryffindors but to the Ravenclaws as well. Or at least her. In her first lesson she had already lost her house ten points. By the end of it, she had forgotten what McGongall had looked like instead she could only picture those dark orbs glaring at her with such contempt. She had never been so happy to leave a class ever. She, Ginny and Evie walked together quietly to the courtyard.

"He really hated you." Nora declared. Her honesty was unnecessary.

Ginny glared at her but said, "I don't think he likes anybody, and Fred and George have lost tons of points for their house. Don't worry about it."

How do you not worry about a professor hating you? Evie wanted to ask them but instead said nothing. She was already felt like she was failing. Tucked into her Potions booklet was the beginnings of a letter she had started for her parents. She pulled out the loose-leaf and her favorite pen.

"What's that?" Nora asked bewildered. Her head had snapped up at the sound of the click.

"It's a pen," Evie told her. The students at Hogwarts had used quills. Evie had stained her hands trying to keep up with Snape's words.

"Muggles use them to write." Ginny informed. "My dad's got a collection of them."

A collection of _pens_?

Dear Mum and Dad,

Hogwarts is just as freaky as you'd think. I got sorted into Ravenclaw and sleep in a tower where the wind whistles all night. This girl's father collects pens. Pens. They write with quills instead. My hands are stained black and I'm certain some spots on my skirt will never come out.

The more she wrote, the more she felt tears springing to her eyes. When would this nightmare end?

**A/N: To continue or to not continue? That is always the question.**


End file.
